


Deaf in the Water

by PhantomFlutist



Series: Fic Request February 2017 [5]
Category: SHINee
Genre: Deaf Character, Kidnapping?, M/M, Mermaids, Pirates, Religious Content, but they technically make a deal?, like you know how mermaids in the legends work right?, probably OOC characters, so it's not exactly kidnapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-11 06:15:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10457280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomFlutist/pseuds/PhantomFlutist
Summary: Minho had never counted himself lucky to be deaf, until his ship encountered a mermaid and he was the only one able to save his crew.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pinkpansy2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinkpansy2/gifts).



> The last part of Fic Request February. Pinkpansy2 requested "A merman and deaf sailor/fisherman/pirate/or towns person AU. Where the setting is either on a ship or in a small poor portside town." I must apologize, because they're only very briefly on a ship? You'll understand when you read it. And so sorry for the wait, darling! Thanks for being so patient. Also thank you to R and R, my lovely betas, who make me coherent and listen to me scream a lot.

   


The waters had been quiet and the winds favorable for the last three days. Given the preciousness of their cargo and the urgency for its safe delivery, the men were muttering constant prayers that this stroke of good fortune would continue.  
  
Minho stood on the deck, feet spread apart for balance and his eyes trained aft, at the Captain. The sea breeze whipped at his short hair and the spray from the waves left a fine, sticky sheen of damp on his bare torso. Most of the other men were in a similar state of dress. It was hard to believe that it was nearly November, with the heat that beat down on them, but such were the wonders of the Caribbean.  
  
The Captain lifted a hand and gave several signals that Minho focused on intently. There was an obstacle up ahead, and they were to adjust accordingly.  
  
Minho obediently put his hands on the brace nearest him and worked together with his shipmates to turn the aft sail just slightly. The ship lurched beneath his feet as the helmsman brought them around. When the Captain gave the signal, Minho secured his line and then finally he was able to have a look at what they were avoiding.  
  
Coming up on their starboard side was a collection of rocks, too small to be called an island. They were water-drenched, unremarkable. Minho’s eyes slid back to the Captain, only to see his hand rising again. Adjust heading, _back to starboard?_  
  
Minho’s fingers barely brushed his line before he pulled them back, certain that he’d misunderstood that order. He glanced around him for clarification and found that the men nearest him were already untying lines.  
  
They could not possibly be _intending_ to steer the ship straight into those rocks. There had to be some sort of mistake.  
  
The ship lurched beneath him, his shipmates doing as they were told even though it would lead to their peril. Minho took a shaky step forward, shouted, “Captain!”  
  
The Captain did not even acknowledge that Minho had spoken. Perhaps he could not be heard over the sound of the wind and the waves.  
  
Instead putting a hand on the nearest sailor, Minho asked, “Jonghyun, what is happening?”  
  
Jonghyun did not respond, but nor did he even attempt to shake Minho off. He simply secured his line and then stood there, staring at the rock formation. It grew ever nearer, and soon enough the sharp points of those rocks would tear through their hull and they would all drown.  
  
Minho did the only thing that he could think to do: he dropped anchor. It was a difficult thing to accomplish by himself, but when the damned thing was finally in the water he prayed for it to hold and it did. The ship came to a stop, bobbing softly on the waves only a few meters from the rocks that would have meant a watery grave.  
  
None of his shipmates seemed to notice that he had done anything at all, their eyes all fixed in the same place.  
  
He waved a hand in Jonghyun’s face, walked over and stood in front of Kibum. The only time that either of them moved was when he put himself between them and the rocks, and even then they ceased motion as soon as he was out of their line of vision. Nothing he said brought a reaction, even when he snapped, “Kim Kibum eats cock.”  
  
Scrubbing a frustrated hand through his sea-roughened hair, Minho whirled around—and came face to face with what they were all staring at.  
  
There was a body lying on the rocks, smooth chestnut skin and long pale hair, glistening in the spray. Minho tried not to focus too much on her bare body, even when he realized that her waist did not curve down into legs and feet but instead a meter of sparkling pink and white scales.  
  
And closer, in the ocean itself, was another person—creature— _mermaid_. This one floated in the surf with arms and shoulders exposed, soft brown hair plastered to her head and shining golden in the bright sun. She flashed him a pearly smile and swam a little closer to the ship, and against his best judgment Minho approached the side and leaned against the railing to see her more clearly.  
  
“You are ruining my sister’s fun,” she said to him.  
  
Minho shrugged, flashed her a smile of his own, and replied, “I did not fancy dying today.”  
  
Her head cocked to one side, maybe considering him. Her face was finely proportioned, high cheekbones and sharp jawline. She opened her mouth and her throat worked for a moment, something off about the way the tendons flexed. After a moment or two she said, “You cannot hear me.”  
  
She was intelligent, Minho would give her that. He shifted, his head dropping to rest on his crossed arms over the railing, and answered, “It seems that is to my fortune, for once.”  
  
Whatever she would have said next was lost to him in the splash of a wave. She shook her head to get stray hair out of her face and then said, “It seems we will have to make some sort of agreement, for I cannot simply let you and your ship go.”  
  
“Then what do you propose? For I cannot allow my ship to sink,” Minho replied.  
  
“I said I could not allow both you _and_ your ship to go,” she repeated. “So I will give you a choice: I can let you to live, and you can wait on these rocks until another ship comes by to rescue you. I will even allow you a bag of supplies to ensure your survival, but your ship and its crew will come with my sister and me down into the ocean.”  
  
“That is only one option,” Minho said, tilting his head to rest his cheek instead of his chin on his arms, studying her mouth and the row of pearly white teeth inside it as she spoke.  
  
“The second is this—you come with me, down to my home on the seabed, and your ship and its crew can go free to finish the delivery of its precious cargo.” The smile she leveled on him was wicked, something almost cruel in the tilt of her pretty pink lips.  
  
Minho glanced around him, at his shipmates staring slack-jawed at the woman on the shore, and knew that he would not be getting any help. He was unaffected by her song only by virtue of his broken ears, but he knew how mermaids worked. He had heard the stories.  
  
He thought of the cargo in the hold, and how many lives would be lost if that medicine did not make it to Cuba in time. It was not often that a band of pirates saved lives instead of taking them. Could he doom hundreds or thousands of innocent people for the sake of his own miserable life?  
  
He knew the answer before the question had fully formed in his mind. Lifting his head, attempting to look more confident, stronger than he felt, he asked her, “Can you guarantee their safety until they arrive in Cuba?”  
  
Her smile had not faltered, and now it drew up further, perhaps in satisfaction. It was clear to him that she knew she was about to get her way. “My people have certain signals that demand safe passage for humans, and certain influence over the waves.”  
  
It was not a true answer. “You will do it?” he asked, near shouted. “If I go with you, do you swear to guarantee their safety?”  
  
Her arm thrust out, splashing water at the side of the ship. He was too far up for it to even get near to reaching him, but he understood the gesture as frustration. “I swear it,” she said. “Have you decided, then?”  
  
Minho took a deep breath and resigned himself to his fate. He would take his death gladly if it meant saving his crew. They had done much for him, taking him in despite his handicap, finding a place for him and ways for him to work beside them. He had spent a full night together with the Captain in his cabin, devising the system of hand signals that allowed Minho to receive orders as quickly as the others. He knew his choice.  
  
“I will,” he told her. “Spare my ship and her crew and I will go with you.”  
  
“Come into the water, then,” she said, beckoning to him with one elegant hand.  
  
Minho gripped the railing tight with both hands. There was nothing for it, no time to be spent ruminating on his fate. He had no need for the few possessions he had, which were tucked away below decks in his seabag where they were safe. He was going to his death, and there was nothing to be done except to get it over with.  
  
He swung his legs over the railing and plunged into the sea.  
  
It took several moments for him to kick his way back to the surface, to heave in a breath of fresh air and take stock of what he could with the waves striving to flood back over his face. He turned slowly in the water, shaking his head to clear his vision, and saw that the mermaid was at the side of the ship, scratching something into the hull with what appeared to be a jagged piece of shell.  
  
The symbol meant nothing to him. It was not a word in any language that he knew. “That is it?” he asked.  
  
Her work finished, she swam to his side, her body graceful and at home in the water. She looked into his eyes as she spoke. “That is the symbol of my clan, and puts them under my protection. No others will attempt to harm them while it remains.”  
  
He attempted to nod and found that he was trembling. The fear that slowly pushed at his throat was not something that he felt often, but now it tugged at his ribs and froze his limbs, and he felt himself begin to sink.  
  
Strong arms wrapped around his bare torso and a flat chest pressed against his. Minho glanced down, his fear forgotten in his shock, and realized that the creature he had been speaking with all this time was not a mermaid, but a mer _man_.  
  
“Are not mermen supposed to be ugly?” he spluttered, words escaping him without permission.  
  
The merman snorted right in Minho’s face. “ _That_ is a myth,” he said. His hands squeezed tighter around Minho’s sides, holding him close. Minho could feel smooth scales brushing softly against his legs and feet, swaying back and forth to keep them afloat. “I am called Jinki.”  
  
Minho shaped his mouth carefully around the sounds, unsure what cadence to use or how to accent the word. Finally he settled on, “ _Jin_ ki.”  
  
Jinki’s smile was wide, almost blinding from so close. “Precious,” he said. “And what about you, Sailor? Have you a name?”  
  
Shaking away the rage at being called precious like he was a child, Minho responded, “I am called Minho.”  
  
“It suits you,” Jinki said. His lips were still upturned and his hands slid slick over Minho’s back. “Brave sailor, strong as stone and more valuable than rubies. I think I shall keep you.”  
  
Minho opened his mouth to ask how that would work, but then they were plunging beneath the waves and he was struggling mindlessly against the hands that pulled him down, down, down into the darkness of the deep. Jinki was surprisingly strong, his hands steady on Minho’s skin.  
  
With his jaw clamped shut, fighting not to open it and let the water rush in, Minho thrashed in Jinki’s hold. He had been willing to die for his ship, for his crew, but now that it was happening the fear was the only thought that remained.  
  
_I do not wish to die._  
  
Between one heartbeat and the next Jinki was suddenly facing him again, his hands cupping Minho’s face and his lips moving. The water distorted the movements and Minho could not _think_. He stared in panicked incomprehension until one of Jinki’s hands slid down to his chest and pushed, just a little.  
  
“ _Breathe, Minho._ ”  
  
He shook his head. If he inhaled now, he would die, and he did not want to die like that, no matter the deal he had made.  
  
“You will be fine,” Jinki said, promised, his thumb stroking over the corner of Minho’s mouth.  
  
Minho’s vision was beginning to blacken at the edges, and he knew that soon enough he would die anyway. Perhaps it would be a mercy to simply resign himself to it. He opened his mouth and took a breath.  
  
Water flooded in, seeping down his throat into his lungs, and Minho felt it all the way down to his belly, cool death filling him. And then in the next moment he was exhaling and the water was ejected with his breath and he stared at Jinki with very wide eyes.  
  
Jinki smiled, pressed a mocking little kiss to Minho’s cheek and then said, “Trust me.”  
  
Minho could do nothing else. He feared that if Jinki ceased touching him, he would drown. So he clung to the merman and allowed himself to be pulled deeper into the ocean.  
  
A flash of pink streaked by them, and as if that made him aware of all the rest, Minho could finally see the life around them. Schools of fish with glittering scales swam past, oddly colored plant life swayed in the tide, and as they approached the ocean floor a great city came into view.  
  
It was built into the coral reef, or was perhaps a part of it. The buildings looked both ancient and alive, covered in brightly-colored shells and plants. And as they neared, dozens of Jinki’s kind swam from open archways to meet them. Their faces were pinched, suspicious.  
  
Jinki let the both of them float to a stop in front of his people and opened his mouth. His lips shaped no words that Minho could discern, but all at once the squinting eyes and wary gestures stopped. Minho found himself surrounded on all sides, hands on his skin and faces nuzzling against his. He nearly lost sight of Jinki in the crowd and felt his breath begin to speed, twisting in the water and searching every face.  
  
A tight grip on his wrist stopped his flailing and then the merfolk were being shooed away. While he was out of Minho’s sight Jinki had acquired a sort of crown, made of sea plants and bits of shell and coral. The colors brought out the soft brown of his hair and the dark of his eyes. He was beautiful.  
  
“You will be safe here,” Jinki told him, his hands coming to rest on Minho’s shoulders. “I will not allow any harm to come to you.”  
  
“But I cannot leave,” Minho surmised. He knew it already, but he had not been prepared for this, for being brought to live under the ocean. He had been expecting death.  
  
Jinki shook his head slowly. “That was the agreement,” he reminded Minho. His eyes were gentler than Minho would have expected. He seemed apologetic, suddenly.  
  
So he fortified himself, looked around at his new surroundings and resolved to make the best of the hand he had been dealt, as he always had. When he looked down towards the sea floor, that was when he first truly _saw_ all of Jinki.  
  
His tail must have been almost two meters long, and the end fanned out delicately like the wing of a bird rather than a fish’s tail. Every inch of it was covered in glittering scales that faded from dark gray to blinding silver and back as he moved. Minho found himself speechless, nearly thoughtless, staring at the mesmerizing glide of that tail back and forth through the water.  
  
A gentle touch on his jaw brought Minho back, looking up at Jinki in time to see him gesture toward the collection of houses, where his people were still loitering, watching them. “I would like to show you my home,” he said.  
  
Though he felt as if he had little choice, Minho nodded, the motion slowed by the water, and allowed himself again to be tugged along like a little dinghy lashed to the side of a ship. Like that he could see the raw power in Jinki’s movements, the easy way his tail sliced through the water. It was enthralling.  
  
He was led to the far side of their underwater city, past dozens of little houses and dozens more staring merfolk, until they came to a stop in front of the largest of the houses. The highest point of the reef towered over its latticed roof, and the archway on the front glittered.  
  
Minho looked to Jinki in question and Jinki smiled at him and said, “This is my home, and now it will be yours.”  
  
Swallowing reflexively, Minho looked again at the house. Little bits of shell had been pressed into the wall to make patterned mosaics, nonsense pictures and symbols that might have been the merfolk’s strange language. Minho drifted nearer to the archway and realized that it was outlined in gold and precious gems. There were coins from all across the world, and he wondered how they had ended up in this place, put to use for such a strange purpose.  
  
Jinki swam up next to him and waited patiently until Minho tore his eyes from the house and returned them to Jinki’s face. “Tributes for safe passage,” he said, waving at the sparkling decorations that covered his doorway.  
  
“It is beautiful,” Minho found himself saying.  
  
Jinki’s face broke into such a bright smile that Minho found in that moment that he did not miss the sun at all. “I am glad,” he said, and tugged at Minho’s hand. “Come inside,” he implored, “and see the rest.”  
  
There were more treasures in the house, Minho found. More gems were pressed into the walls and the floor was covered in some sort of spongy plant that gave under Minho’s feet as he instinctually braced them there. And in little shelf-like alcoves there were fine vases, intricately carved chests, and pottery that looked old enough to have come from Ancient Greece.  
  
He touched one of the chests, running his fingers over the engraving. The waves had dulled it some, but the wood must have been well-finished because it showed little sign of water damage.  
  
Jinki reached around Minho, startling him, and pulled the chest open. It was filled to the brim with gold and gems, necklaces and signet rings and crowns. Even in the dimness they sparkled.  
  
“More tributes?” Minho asked.  
  
He felt Jinki nod, their heads nearly brushing. He curled his arms around Minho’s waist. They were warm and strong and made Minho shudder. How long had it been since last he was held? He could not recall.  
  
Jinki’s fingers plucked a golden cuff from the chest and he held it up for a moment, turning it this way and that, before he slid it onto his own wrist. Next he chose a ring, and after inspecting it the same way took Minho’s hand in his and slid the ring onto his smallest finger. It was heavy; gold inset with emeralds, worth more than the ship Minho had called home for nearly half his life.  
  
For a time, Jinki continued in this way, taking things from the chest and ornamenting himself or Minho. When he was finished he sported several rings, a woman’s pearl necklace, and a jeweled belt around his waist at the line where flesh became scales. Minho was similarly adorned in multiple thin golden bracelets, a cuff high on the bicep of his right arm, and a ruby earring in the ear that before had held only a simple golden hoop.  
  
Minho turned, ready to protest the fortune that he was wearing, but then Jinki’s hands came up one last time and set a golden circlet on his head. Minho’s breath caught in his throat and he told himself that Jinki could not possibly understand what that meant. After all, it was clear that he treated all these gems as mere trinkets with which to amuse himself. He could not know the cost of it all or the meaning behind it. His use of the pearl necklace made that clear.  
  
“Prince Minho,” Jinki said, smoothing the sides of Minho’s hair down beneath the circlet.  
  
Minho choked, and found that coughing underwater was both odd and uncomfortable. When he had regained use of his throat he asked, “What?”  
  
Jinki lurched forward and pressed a haphazard kiss to Minho’s mouth. “Mate,” he said happily.  
  
Minho discovered that it was actually possible to hyperventilate underwater, and proved it by swooning like a woman with hysterics.  
  
\---  
  
He awoke in a hammock, still bejeweled and with the circlet a great weight on his head. Jinki’s face floated into view, his features scrunched with distress.  
  
Minho pushed himself up so that he was sitting, staring at Jinki and gripping hard at the ropes of the hammock. He must have misunderstood something, he told himself. Perhaps a kiss like that meant something different to merfolk than it did to humans.  
  
Jinki’s lips were turned down as he said, “I apologize. I did not mean to distress you.”  
  
Minho took a shuddering breath, reminding himself again that it must be a misunderstanding, and asked, “Why did you kiss me?”  
  
Jinki made an oddly fluid gesture that Minho realized after a moment was the merman equivalent of a shrug. “I wanted to.”  
  
“Why did you bring me here?” Minho asked. “Of all the men on that ship, I was the only one who couldn not hear you sing. Why did you pick me?”  
  
Jinki’s hands were gentle on Minho’s face as he cupped his cheeks. “Because you could not hear me sing,” he said. He moved forward and for one panicked moment Minho thought that Jinki would kiss him again, but instead he merely pressed their foreheads together and closed his eyes. “You were beautiful and you could not hear me sing and I wanted you.”  
  
Minho shook his head, rocking their brows together, slightly in awe of how soft Jinki’s skin was. But then, everything felt odd underwater. “You could have had anyone,” he murmured.  
  
Jinki laughed, his body shaking, so close to Minho’s. “And I chose you,” he said. His right hand trailed up and ran slowly over the circlet on Minho’s head. “As partner, lifemate, lover, I chose you, Minho.”  
  
Minho swallowed, trying to get his mind around that. He had never been wanted so much by anyone. His life on the ship had been the only one that he had, the only place he had ever been happy. It was hard to believe that he would be able to survive down here, and harder to believe that Jinki would ever love him.  
  
It occurred to him that not once had he worried that he would be unable to love Jinki, and perhaps in that he had his answer. Jinki was beautiful, and mischievous, and kind, and Minho could see himself loving him.  
  
“Will you stay with me, Minho?” Jinki asked, running his thumb now across the swell of Minho’s cheekbone. He was so earnest, so open.  
  
Minho nodded, knocking their heads together lightly. “I will,” he said. “I will stay.”  
  
Jinki’s smile brought lightness and relief to Minho’s chest that he had not known was possible. He was breathless with it, staring at Jinki as though he was the whole world. It was foolish, to allow himself this. But then, what choice did he have?  
  
Jinki kissed him then, soft and tender.  
  
Minho melted into it, allowed himself to believe, if only for a moment, that Jinki would love him. That perhaps he would be happy here. So few people had ever desired him, so few had even been willing to touch him like this. To so many he was broken, unnatural.  
It seemed that Jinki did not see him that way, and Minho wanted to trust that that was truth. He did not know Jinki, but he wanted to trust in him.  
  
_It must be some merman magic,_ he thought, but even that had no malice in it. If Jinki had somehow bewitched him, then at least Minho would live out the rest of his time here in peace instead of in pain. He could survive that. He could survive much more if Jinki kept kissing him like that.  
  
But finally Jinki pulled away, his lips pink from the kiss and his eyes soft. “My people will love you,” he said, and for some reason that Minho could not discern it sounded like, “ _I_ will love you.”  
  
\---  
  
They spent that first night curled together in the hammock, Jinki’s great tail hanging out and swishing occasionally to rock them softly side to side. It was warm and soft and dark, and Minho could not see well enough for them to speak, but Jinki’s hands ran slowly over Minho’s skin, his arms and chest and belly, pressing into firm muscles and stroking over every soft spot he found.  
  
It was nearly too much for Minho. He had never experienced such intimacy with another person. And even so, Jinki’s exploratory touch never turned sexual. He seemed content to catalog each dip and plane of Minho’s body, to press gentle kisses to his cheeks and forehead.  
  
Minho, for his part, could not bring himself to do more than curl one arm around Jinki’s slim waist, the other tucked under his own head. He simply closed his eyes and allowed himself to feel.  
  
If this was how it was to be, if his place under the sea was at Jinki’s side, feeling and existing like this, then Minho thought he would gladly live two eternities to experience it fully.  
  
\---  
  
The next morning he woke alone, and his sleep-fogged mind decided for a moment that it had all been a dream. That was, until he realized that he was very much still in the ocean, still in the house that Jinki had called theirs. Diluted sunlight beamed down through the latticed roof and made the gold around Minho’s wrists and fingers shine.  
  
He was a kept man, he realized, and could not find it in himself to regret that.  
  
Jinki swam through the door then, a wide shell in one hand, the other cupped protectively over it. He stopped beside Minho and offered the shell out, and Minho realized that it was filled with food—fresh fish with the bones still in it, and seaweed and other underwater plants.  
  
Minho took the offering with cautious hands, watched Jinki’s face spread in another bright smile as he did so.  
  
“Eat,” he said.  
  
Hesitating, Minho asked, “What about you?”  
  
But Jinki only shook his head. “I have eaten already. This is for you.”  
  
So Minho ate it, pulling the fish apart with his fingers and carefully removing the bones so he would not choke. It was not so dissimilar from the food he had eaten on the ship, though they had usually cooked their fish first.  
  
Jinki watched him with rapt attention, his whole body preening when Minho murmured, “It is good.”  
  
“I caught the fish myself,” he told Minho. There was pride there, in the set of his shoulders and the look in his eyes. He wished to provide for Minho. It was not something to which Minho was accustomed.  
  
He had spent most of his life providing for himself, protecting himself. It would be a change to rely on someone else. But the obvious pleasure that Jinki took in caring for him made it easier for Minho to accept. Jinki _wanted_ to do this for him. Minho thought that he would not mind letting him.  
  
When Minho had finished eating, Jinki drew his attention with a hand on his neck. His thumb stroked over Minho’s throat for a moment and then he said, “I wish to introduce you to my people properly.”  
  
Swallowing, and seeing the way that Jinki’s eyes dropped to follow the movement of his throat, Minho asked, “And what does that entail?”  
  
“Yesterday they greeted you as a friend, a newcomer,” Jinki said, his thumb coming up to trace the line of Minho’s jaw. “Today they will greet you as their new prince.”  
  
Minho breathed deeply and told himself that those words did not terrify him. “If I am a prince,” he said slowly, “then what does that make you?”  
  
Jinki laughed, his head tilting to the side. “My people have no kings, not in the way that yours do,” he explained. “I am a prince also, leader of my clan. I was chosen by the Goddess when I could barely swim.”  
  
Though he knew nothing about the religious practices of merfolk, it was not surprising to Minho to learn that they did not worship any of the entities with which he was familiar. For all that he knew, their goddess was nothing more than a large rock somewhere in the sea. He wondered how many other things he did not know. Perhaps he was misinterpreting this whole situation, and it was a practice amongst Jinki’s people to dress up and venerate as princes the humans that they planned to eat.  
  
Seeming to sense his panic, Jinki pressed a kiss to Minho’s lips. “There is nothing to fear,” he said. “My people will love you, and the things that you do not know I will teach you, over time.”  
  
Minho knocked their heads together, pulled Jinki close with hands around his ribcage, and tucked his head into Jinki’s neck so that he could just breathe for a while. They were nearly perfect strangers, but even so Jinki was the most familiar thing to him in this place. Minho took what comfort he could in that.  
  
Jinki’s fingers pet slowly over Minho’s hair as he waited, his arms wrapped around Minho’s shoulders. It occurred to Minho that he was larger, stronger than Jinki, though it was hard to tell when Jinki was constantly comforting him, when he took up so much _space_ because of his tail. But Minho’s shoulders were slightly broader, his arms large and striated with muscle. Minho had spent the last fifteen years of his life working on a ship.  
  
And Jinki…he did not know what Jinki did, but it seemed that he had few responsibilities that involved physical work, and even had he lifted and pulled the same weights that Minho did he would still be weaker because of the effect of the water.  
  
Even so Jinki was strong—not only in his body, but in the way he held himself, the confidence with which he did everything, the words that he spoke. It was clear that he was accustomed to giving orders, and to those orders being obeyed. He excelled at caring for others.  
  
“You will be beside me?” Minho asked, hating the weakness that he could feel in the words even as he spoke them.  
  
Jinki nodded, his chin brushing Minho’s ear. He pressed a kiss just under it, on Minho’s neck, and let his mouth linger there for a time. Minho had not felt this comfortable with anyone in a very long time.  
  
When the moment had extended perhaps a bit too long, Minho pulled reluctantly away. He found that he liked such closeness, that he would be content to stay in Jinki’s embrace for much longer. But Jinki’s people were waiting to…meet him. “We should go,” he said.  
  
Again Jinki nodded, and he reassured Minho, “There is nothing to fear. They already love you.”  
  
Minho did not know if he believed it, but he let himself trust in Jinki as he took Minho’s hand and led him from the house.  
  
The merfolk were already gathered in a loose circle just outside, dozens upon dozens of them in a dazzling array of colors. Minho spotted the pink-tailed young mermaid from the day before, and thought he recognized many of those who had come to greet him when he first arrived, but their faces had blurred together so that he was relying more on their coloring than on their features.  
  
Minho and Jinki came to rest, floating gently, near the middle of the circle. Jinki squeezed his hand and then opened his mouth, his throat flexing like before but mouth not forming speech. Minho could only assume that their form of communication relied more on tone than on words.  
  
Slowly, one by one, the people swam up to them. They stopped in front of Minho and held out their hands, palms up, and after glancing at Jinki, who was being greeted in the same way, Minho realized that he was to lay his hands over theirs. He did so, and was rewarded with the gentle swish of a tail against his feet.  
  
And on and on it went, each mermaid or merman pressing their hands into his, and sometimes one of the older ones would lean forward and nuzzle affectionately against his face, like Minho might do with a very small child.  
  
There were merfolk children; tiny, fast things that darted up to him and pressed kisses to his face, swiped their tails across his legs, and swam away again giggling. One of them deposited some sort of crown on his head, coral and sea plants like the one that Jinki had worn the day before.  
  
Jinki saw, and smiled softly. “It suits you,” he said.  
  
Minho touched it self-consciously. He had no idea what he looked like now. Everything in this place was so foreign to him, and he felt so strange. It was as if he had become a completely different person simply by sinking beneath the waves.  
  
The pink-tailed mermaid was the last to greet Minho, and she smiled brightly at him and declared, “You ruined my fun yesterday.”  
  
He shrugged, unsure how to reply to that but feeling as though she expected him to. “Those men are my family.”  
  
“They were,” she replied. She had not let go of his hands, and now she squeezed them tightly with her own. “You have clan, now.”  
  
And it struck Minho like a sail yard to the head. He was never going to see the ship or the crew again. He would never joke with Jonghyun or tease Kibum or work beside any of them again. He wondered if the Captain would continue using hand signals without Minho there to watch for them. He wondered what they would do with his things. Would they even know what had happened to him? Would they remember nearly crashing the ship because of a mermaid’s song?  
  
Hands on his shoulders and a cheek against his, and his hand pressed against a sharp collarbone to feel low vibrations. Jinki was holding him, singing to him even though he could not hear it.  
  
With some effort, Minho managed to calm his panicked breathing and relax into Jinki’s touch. “Do they know?” he asked, one hand gripping perhaps too tightly around Jinki’s bicep.  
  
Jinki pulled back some to reply. “They will remember,” he promised, “and they will love you for what you have done.”  
  
“You keep saying that,” Minho muttered, but he felt better to know that at least he would not be forgotten. They would think him dead and they would mourn him, but that was better than not knowing his fate at all. They would know that he had saved them. He could take comfort in that.  
  
Jinki held him for a time longer, gentle hands stroking down his back. It was an odd position for Minho to be in, constantly being comforted like this. He did not want Jinki to think that that was how he normally acted.  
  
Pushing away, Minho said, “I apologize. I have been emotional, this last day.”  
  
Jinki seemed to see right through him, and kept hold of Minho’s arm, telling him, “You are allowed to feel, Minho. You are allowed to mourn your people and the life that you left behind. I will not begrudge you that.”  
  
Merfolk still floated around them, frolicking in the water or holding some sort of strange conversation that Minho would never understand. Many were watching them, their Prince and his new mate, this human that had been dropped into their lives and their home. Minho felt his throat begin to clog with a sob and he wondered distantly what it would be like to cry when submerged in the ocean.  
  
“I apologize,” he said again, “but I think I need a moment alone.”  
  
He pulled away from Jinki and swam back towards the house, and Jinki let him go. Minho did not look back to see what expression might be on Jinki’s face, and avoided looking at the other merfolk that he passed as well. It was safer that way. If he could not see them, then he could pretend that none of them would notice his tears.  
  
He was not as weak as this. But in the last day he had been torn from everything and everyone he knew, subjected himself to what he believed was certain death only to be brought somewhere he did not believe that he could survive and to be made the bride of a merman prince. He sank into the hammock, gave himself leeway to cry, and shut the world out for a time.  
  
\---  
  
He was woken later by lips against his, by fingers caressing his throat like flower petals against his skin. Jinki’s tongue ran along his bottom lip and without thinking Minho pulled it into his mouth and sucked gently. It made Jinki tremble and go limp against him for a moment, his breathing harsh.  
  
But then in the next moment Jinki was pulling back, was stroking Minho’s eyebrows until his eyes fluttered open. “Rise, Mate, the Goddess comes.”  
  
Minho’s breath hitched, a question in his brow, but Jinki only dragged him upright and out of the house.  
  
The merfolk were crowded together, a great energy humming through them. No more was the frolicking and socializing that Minho had left behind perhaps a few hours earlier. They were all very still, their tails flicking harsh and rarely to keep themselves in place.  
Jinki swam past them, tugging Minho along behind, struggling to keep up with the powerful strokes of Jinki’s tail with only his human legs.  
  
As Jinki passed, the other merfolk fell into some sort of formation behind him, and they swam as a group away from the houses and deeper into the endless ocean.  
  
Minho half expected some great, ethereal mermaid to come upon them. Or perhaps for him to discover that their goddess was only a slant of sunlight or the hull of a sunken ship.  
  
He was not expecting a whale.  
  
Though perhaps he should have, even knowing as little about merfolk as he did. It made sense when he considered it, that they would worship something that was both similar to them and not alike at all.  
  
She was beautiful, her dark gray hide nearly camouflaging her in the deep waters, her movements sleek and powerful.  
  
Jinki stopped them some distance from her, petted Minho’s cheek and said, “Stay here.” He swam off on his own, right up to the side of the whale, nuzzling against her snout. With him right there it was easy to see the sheer size of her, her body at least the length of the three-masted ship that Minho had called home.  
  
The rest of the merfolk hung back with Minho, and he could see tails flicking anxiously in the water. He could not tell if they were nervous for their Prince or if they simply wished to join him, but he could see how the tension had drawn their bodies tight.  
  
Jinki spent several minutes stroking his hands over the whale’s great side, apparently communing with her. This was Jinki’s Goddess, the one who had supposedly chosen him to lead his clan when he was just a babe. Minho did not understand their ways, but he did understand that to Jinki, this was like standing in front of the king, or the Christ, or a very dear parent, or perhaps all three in one. The joy on his face was so evident, even at the distance from which Minho watched.  
  
It felt as though Jinki was glowing, all of that precious joy radiating off of him because his body was too small to contain it. Minho wanted to wrap him up and absorb all that joy for himself, to kiss the excess from his body until it was no longer leaking everywhere.  
  
He could tell that his thoughts were wandering into the wildly inappropriate when his body began to respond, and Minho quickly tamped down his imagination. It had been far too long since he last had a chance for...activities…of that nature.  
  
A few moments later Jinki turned and beckoned to them, and the merfolk immediately rushed forward. The pink-tailed mermaid caught Minho’s wrist as she passed and helped to tow him along, leading him right up to Jinki.  
  
Beaming, Jinki caught Minho around the waist and pulled him close to the whale’s side. “She wishes to greet you,” he said.  
  
“What do I do?” Minho asked. He had never seen a whale from so close before. At this angle he could only make out a small section of her great gray hide. It was like standing beneath a castle and being able to focus on no more than the bricks directly in front of him.  
  
Jinki took his hand and directed it to the whale’s side, and Minho understood. He stroked softly over her skin, leathery and sleek, and marveled at his good fortune. No man had ever been in such close proximity with a whale for so long. He was being allowed to pet her, even to lean close and bump his forehead against her side, to feel her solid beneath his fingers.  
  
“Thank you,” he breathed, and was unable to determine whether the words were meant for Jinki or for the whale herself or perhaps for God for allowing this to happen.  
  
Squeezing his waist and pressing a kiss to Minho’s temple, Jinki said nothing. He too still petted slowly over the whale’s hide, curled his fingers to stroke his knuckles over a bump in her flesh.  
  
All around them the other merfolk communed with the whale in their own ways. Many of them laid almost entirely against her sides, like they were attempting to wrap themselves around her but were not large enough. There was bliss on every one of their faces, joy like the joy that enveloped Jinki. This was their Goddess, and Minho did not understand. He could not fully comprehend what it would be like to see your deity face to face.  
  
He could not believe in a whale as supreme being, or however it was that they saw her, and maybe that would prevent him from ever understanding how greatly they needed this. But he was only human, brought into this life but not a part of it, merely a bystander as they all worshipped. It made him feel odd and out of place.  
  
Jinki nuzzled the side of his head, drawing Minho out of his reverie. As strange as all of it was, Minho was there because Jinki wanted him there. Jinki had chosen him, perhaps with poor judgment, but that had been his decision to make. He had invited Minho to share in this experience.  
  
Minho turned to look Jinki in the face, perhaps to thank him again, but as soon as he realized that he had Minho’s attention Jinki said, “She rejoices with me.”  
  
Though Minho could barely comprehend what that might mean, he understood the sentiment. Jinki’s Goddess apparently approved of Minho, or at least Jinki believed that she did. Ridiculously, it made Minho feel better about the whole thing. “I do not belong here,” Minho said foolishly.  
  
Jinki’s brows drew together and he gripped firmly at the base of Minho’s neck, strong fingers massaging his flesh. The touch was grounding, somehow, and when Jinki’s forehead met his Minho forgot that he had felt out of place at all. “You are wonderful, and you belong at my side. The Goddess agrees.”  
  
And Minho did not believe in Jinki’s Goddess, he did not worship her the way that the merfolk did. But the conviction on Jinki’s face, the determined way that he formed each syllable with his plush lips, did wonders for assuring Minho that he was exactly where he was supposed to be.  
  
\---  
  
Minho felt a tug at his arm and a tail slapped his legs as a small body whipped past him in the water. He turned just in time to see one of the children flitting away with a sparkling bracelet in his grip and mirth on his face. When he was at a bit of a distance he raised the bracelet, waved it teasingly at Minho and lifted one challenging eyebrow.  
  
Laughing, Minho gave chase.  
  
He was no match in speed for any of the adults, but the children were not as strong or as practiced as their parents, and Minho was learning to keep up. He was stronger than he even had been on the ship, his muscles toned from months of constantly pushing through the water.  
  
And as Jinki had predicted, his people loved Minho. Even the adults who did not speak his language often curled around him, nuzzled his face and brushed their tails against his legs. He had learned to accept it as a part of life there, as he had accepted living underwater, breathing underwater.  
  
And the children were playful and loved to tease, and Minho often indulged them. It took him only a few moments to draw even with the merboy, to pluck the bracelet from his little hand and to stick his tongue out, twisting in the water and veering away.  
  
A flash of bright yellow scales to his left. Those belonged to one of the girls, and Minho pushed himself to swim faster, dodging out of her wily fingers just before she caught his ankle.  
  
The other children started to join in, and it became more a game of strategy, Minho desperately dodging as they slowly herded him into a corner.  
  
It was good training for them, Jinki had explained once. Many of the adults played games like this with the children to teach them how to hunt.  
  
By the end Minho was surrounded in a wiggling, giggling mass of little bodies, three or four attached to each arm and others holding onto his legs. Several more pieces of his jewelry were filched, rings and bracelets slipping onto tiny wrists and fingers.  
  
A silvery shape floated over them and the children scattered, still laughing and chasing each other, poking and teasing as they went.  
  
Jinki smiled down on Minho, looking indulgent. “You keep losing my gifts,” he said.  
  
Minho just shrugged, adjusted the circlet on his head (the one item the children never touched) and replied, “They always come back eventually.”  
  
Letting himself sink down a little so that their faces were level, Jinki gave Minho a chaste kiss. “You are lucky that that is the case. Those jewels are invaluable,” he said.  
  
Minho chuckled, pulled Jinki forward for a proper kiss, and insisted, “You would still forgive me.”  
  
Jinki gave a little huff, bubbles floating from his open mouth, but did not refute the statement. His hands were soft around Minho’s hips, his eyes affectionate.  
  
Wrapping his arms around Jinki’s shoulders and crushing him in close, Minho buried his face in Jinki’s hair and breathed deep for a few moments. At first, Jinki had been a lifeline in this place, the person that Minho turned to when he was confused and anxious and missing home. Gradually, he had become so much more than that.  
  
Jinki pulled away slightly, cupped his hands around Minho’s neck and stroked his thumbs over Minho’s jaw. “I am so glad to have you here with me, Beloved,” he said.  
  
There were joyous little bubbles building in Minho’s chest. He was so, so happy. He had not thought it possible to be happy in this place, away from everything he had ever known, but he was. Jinki made him happy.  
  
“I want you to stay with me forever,” Jinki said. His face was raw and open. He was baring his soul to Minho, and in spite of the affection that Jinki regularly poured out, this was a different thing entirely, a thing that was rare and precious.  
  
Minho rubbed his hands over Jinki’s back, told him, “I want to stay with you.”  
  
The smile Jinki offered him was more subdued than normal, and he hesitated, opening his mouth as though he would speak and then closing it again several times. Finally he said, “I could make you like me.”  
  
Minho inhaled slowly, considered what that could mean. He thought he understood, but there were…questions that he needed answered. “I would become a merman?”  
  
Jinki nodded. He clutched Minho’s shoulders as though he would run away if he did not hold on tightly enough.  
  
“Would I be able to hear?”  
  
Very gently, Jinki squeezed Minho’s shoulders. “No,” he said. “But you would…we have a way of sensing vibrations. It would not be hearing but it would be something similar.”  
  
Even that sounded wonderful. Minho’s world had been silent for so long. He had all but forgotten the sound of his mother’s lullabies when he was just a babe, before the fever took his hearing. And more than that, the thought of having more time to spend at Jinki’s side was appealing. Merfolk had longer lifespans than humans. If he chose to remain as he was, he would grow old and die long before Jinki did.  
  
Jinki was waiting patiently for his answer, his hands massaging over Minho’s skin.  
  
“I do not know,” Minho said carefully, “if I can worship the Goddess the way that you do.”  
  
And Jinki laughed then, his head tossing back and his mouth wide and his chest shaking against Minho’s. “Everyone worships in their own way,” he told Minho. “And the Goddess will understand. Your relationship with her is your own.”  
  
Minho breathed a sigh of relief. He had spent much time over the last months pondering the nature of his relationship with Jinki, his relationship with God, and how Jinki’s Goddess fit in. To think that he could continue his beliefs as they were, without concern of offending Jinki or his people, was a great comfort.  
  
“I want to stay beside you,” he admitted to Jinki, so quietly that he was not sure that he had voiced the words at all.  
  
Jinki’s face lit up, and his eyes grew yet softer with affection. He pressed kisses all over Minho’s face, happy laughter bubbling out of him. “Thank you, Beloved,” he said after a time, resting his head against Minho’s.  
  
With gentle fingers stroking Jinki’s hair, Minho replied, “No, thank you. You have given me more than I ever could have imagined, my love.” He pressed a kiss to Jinki’s lips, and then another. The conversation was paused in favor of holding each other, exchanging soft kisses and softer caresses. Minho felt a sigh of pleasure seep out of Jinki’s chest and was pleased that he was able to cause such a reaction.  
  
“Will you allow me to do it now?” Jinki asked.  
  
Minho nodded, gripped tightly to Jinki’s hips and asked, “Will it hurt?”  
  
Laughing, Jinki shook his head. “You will barely feel a thing,” he promised, and then he kissed Minho again, sliding his tongue along Minho’s lip.  
  
When Minho opened his mouth to allow Jinki access, something smooth and round slipped in with Jinki’s tongue. He let it roll around for a moment or two, focusing more on the kiss than on the foreign object clacking against his teeth, and finally Jinki pulled away from him.  
  
“Swallow, Beloved,” Jinki said.  
  
Minho did, and was rewarded with the strange sensation of the round object sliding all the way down his throat and into his belly. “What was that?” he asked.  
  
Jinki stroked the line of Minho’s throat and then up and over the shape of his mouth and nose and finally each of his eyebrows in turn. “That was my pearl,” he explained. “It is a gift I can give only once, to a human with whom I choose to spend my life.”  
  
“And that will make me like you?” Minho said.  
  
“It already is,” Jinki replied, and he gestured down at Minho’s legs.  
  
Only they were not legs anymore. They had already begun to merge together, to sprout scales of deep blue and turquoise. Minho found he could do nothing but gape as his body changed.  
  
It took several minutes, the changes gradual and strange but not painful. And when it was finished Minho had a tail, fanned at the end just like Jinki’s but longer, slightly wider, and much more colorful.  
  
Jinki’s fingertips settled reverently on the topmost scales at Minho’s waist. He stroked over the line where skin and scales merged, and between the two of them there was stillness except for the sway of the water and Jinki’s single caressing hand.  
  
“You are more beautiful than I imagined, Beloved,” Jinki said.  
  
Minho felt the words shudder through him, and he stared at Jinki with his mouth agape. “I heard that,” he said, for lack of better descriptors.  
  
Jinki let out a chuckle that caressed Minho as gently as his lovely fingers and pulled Minho close once more. “You are mine,” he said, pressing his cheek to Minho’s, brushing his lips against the shell of Minho’s ear as he spoke. “And I—“ He shivered, sliding both hands down the sides of Minho’s new tail. “Beloved, I am yours. Forever.”  
  
Minho felt tears choking his throat and could only reply with kisses along Jinki’s neck and arms tight around his waist. This was not how he had intended to live his life. He could not, in a thousand years, have imagined that he would wind up here. But he had never been so grateful for a botched plan. He had reached a point where he could not imagine a life without Jinki in it. “I love you,” he said.  
  
Jinki nuzzled against Minho’s hair and held him as though he would never let go. “And I you, Beloved,” he said, the soft vibrations of his voice sinking into Minho’s flesh and leaving him breathless.  
  
Minho had never intended to live like this, but perhaps God or fate had dictated it long before he had any say. It mattered little, because he had made his choice. He would stay beside Jinki until death came or God took him away.  
  
\---  
  
The sun was bright. It had been weeks (months?) since they last broke the surface, and Minho had become unused to the strength of the sun’s light and heat without the protection of the water. He dipped himself under again to cool his overheated flesh and then ran both hands across his face to push back his hair. It was growing long, and the process of fixing that underwater was arduous. Jinki had promised to take a knife to it the next time they were on land.  
  
The clan’s children were playing in the shallows a few meters to Minho’s left. There was much shrieking and splashing and he could not help but smile at their antics, even when their little yells vibrated too quickly through him and left him wincing and rubbing his sternum.  
  
Minho was one of several adults who had been left to keep an eye on the children while the rest of the clan hunted and gathered. They formed a loose perimeter around the young ones, content to be tossed gently by the waves and watch the joy on the children’s faces as they played. It was not often that they got to surface as a group like this; the danger was too great.  
  
From the corner of his eye, Minho saw one of the other adults go suddenly still, her head tilted and listening. And then all at once he felt it too, the creaking of a great ship heaved about by the ocean.  
  
As one they rounded up the children with soft, shushing voices, herding them around to the other side of the small island they were visiting, where there was an inlet that would offer some cover.  
  
The children seemed not to understand, but even so there was fear on their little faces. Minho patted the nearest one on the head and gave her a reassuring smile, told her in a bare whisper to keep close to the others, to watch her little brother.  
  
While the other adults blocked the edge of the inlet with their bodies, Minho swam back around the island.  
  
The ship was just visible now, coming straight for them. It was likely that the crew planned to stop at the island, to find fresh water or to clean the hull of their ship or for any number of other completely innocent reasons that did not at all include hunting down a clan of mermaids and doing harm to their children.  
  
Minho knew this. He knew what it was like, working on a ship. He knew that there was no reason for him to think that the ship’s crew even knew that there was a mermaid clan living near there, or that they would be sunning themselves at this particular island.  
  
It still did not sit well with him, and he wished that Jinki was at his side, rather than off leading the hunting party.  
  
As the ship grew nearer, he weighed his options. He could wait until he knew where they were going and then stage a quiet escape; he could sing and force them to turn back; he could sing and force them to _sink their ship_.  
  
And then he realized that the shape of the sails and the unique dragon figurehead were familiar to him, and he threw all of those options aside. Instead he swam forward, streaking through the water until he came level with the ship, and started banging against the side.  
  
He saw faces poke over the side and felt distressed, confused calls go back and forth, and then they pulled up not far from the beach and dropped anchor.  
  
The Captain came to the side of the ship and peered imperiously down at him. The expression was dropped quickly in favor of slack-jawed shock, and Minho could not help but grin back.  
  
“Did you miss me?” he called.  
  
Jonghyun’s head poked up next to the Captain’s, and he replied, “You, sir, are dead!”  
  
Minho threw his head back and laughed, and watched shock and fear and denial sweep through the faces of the crew, who had all joined their Captain at the railing. “I have never felt more alive, Jonghyun,” he said.  
  
“Come up here, Sailor,” the Captain ordered, giving an old familiar hand signal requesting someone bring a rope ladder, “and give us an explanation for this.”  
  
Minho shook his head and told him, “That will be a bit difficult, I am afraid.” He leaned back in the water, kept his eye on all their faces as he very deliberately swept his tail upward once and then allowed it to drop back into the water with a great splash.  
  
There was much swearing and Kibum looked as though he might be sick.  
  
“What in the hell was that?” yelled a sailor that Minho did not recognize, a round-cheeked young man with long, dark hair and slightly girlish features.  
  
Minho winked at him, and told the Captain, “I do hope that my funeral was properly solemn.”  
  
“Asshole,” Kibum snapped, leaning over the railing the better to scold Minho. “You made a deal with a mermaid and jumped into the _fucking ocean_. What in the seven hells were you thinking?”  
  
Honestly, Minho replied, “I was thinking that there was enough medicine in our hold to save thousands of lives, and that if I allowed the ship to sink, I was allowing all of those innocents to die.”  
  
Kibum looked ready to murder Minho. “We were taking it to Cuba. How many fucking people in Cuba are _innocents?_ ”  
  
“If I allowed the ship to sink, I was allowing all of _you_ to die as well,” Minho pointed out, and all of a sudden they all went very still. They knew it already; they had likely been grateful when it first happened, when they realized what Minho had done for them. But it had been…two years? Three now? And things changed, humans forgot things, they lost the extremes of emotions that had threatened to kill them in the past. Minho knew that well.  
  
After a time, Jonghyun said, “We have missed you, Minho. Taemin is not the same, and he has none of your talent in the kitchen.”  
  
Minho laughed, even as he felt a twinge of sadness at the thought of his old life, his crew, his ship. He did miss it, sometimes, when in the dark nights there was only the gentle sway of the hammock instead of the rhythmic rocking of the ship beneath him. But then he would shift, feel Jinki solid and warm beside him, and remember what he had. In giving up his old home, he had gained a new one.  
  
Even now, warm arms wrapped around his waist from behind and Minho leaned into the familiar embrace.  
  
“Are you alright, Beloved? The others seemed to think that there was some danger,” Jinki said against his neck.  
  
Minho laid a hand over Jinki’s and said, “Everything is fine, love. I was simply catching up with some old friends.”  
  
He felt Jinki look up at the ship and her crew, assessing the level of threat, no doubt, even though Minho had already assured him that there was no danger. It had rubbed him the wrong way at first, especially after Minho had gotten his scales, that Jinki did not seem to trust him. Now he understood that it was simply how Jinki _was_ , that as prince and as clan leader he was constantly on guard because he felt personally responsible for the individual health of each member of the clan.  
  
After a moment, Jinki mumbled, “You forgot this,” and slid Minho’s circlet onto his head.  
  
He had forgotten it on purpose, of course, as it usually just got in the way on outings like this, and frankly he was not entirely certain where Jinki had been carrying it all that time, but he chose not to question it. It was clear to him that Jinki was only staking his claim, was reminding Minho where he belonged.  
  
Minho had never questioned that, and he took hold of Jinki’s hand and pulled it to his lips, brushing kisses against his knuckles.  
  
The crew still gaped, and Minho relished their shock. “I apologize,” he called to them, not feeling one iota of true regret. “But I have found a more rewarding place for myself.”  
  
Kibum swore and launched into another lecture to make his mother proud, and the Captain began to smile indulgently. Innocent little Taemin looked as though his heart might give out, but Jonghyun wrapped an arm around his neck and dragged him closer to the railing so that he could properly admire the merfolk as they began to emerge curiously from the water.  
  
These were his people, Minho thought as he was swarmed by little bodies and then when they scattered he was decorated from waist to head with gold and sparkling gems. This was his place. The ship and her crew would forever be a part of him, a place that he had belonged and been happy once. But he was a part of the ocean, meant to live out the rest of his life there, meant to stay by Jinki’s side.  
  
And Goddess help him, he could not regret his choice if he wanted to.  


   



End file.
